Crackerjack
by let's point out the obvious
Summary: "Years of obsessive study have taught him well."  A one-shot Kyman piece with the same amount of musing and intimate nonsense that the fandom ought to expect from me.


A Kyman piece from Eric's perspective.

Warnings (because I really don't trust some people not to get all in a huff because of this:) Kyle on top. Yes.

Have at it then.

* * *

After so much time together (and a few years spent "together,") Eric thinks he can read Kyle pretty accurately. He's practically a Kyle expert. Years of obsessive study have taught him well. He now knows the precise twitch of Kyle's mouth that signifies that his teasing has been heard, and another, rarer, that shows that Kyle secretly thought the comment was clever. He can recognize the exact moment that this teasing goes too far, can hear the slight break in Kyle's voice that means his feelings are actually hurt. And then of course there's the all too familiar growl of warning that comes at the last possible moment in which Eric can escape before Kyle fights back.

Aggression is a common ground for them, a comfortable place to retreat to when at a loss. But it isn't all they know.

Eric is equally aware of which scenes in a movie will make Kyle tear up and which will make him roll his eyes. He understands what makes Kyle stop in the middle of the sidewalk and stare, and can tell when he wants to speak but, for once, can't find the words. He knows when Kyle's blood sugar is low and always panics before Kyle does at the thought of what could happen if he doesn't bring it back up soon enough.

He knows that when Kyle says "we have to help," there is no keeping him from lending a hand. That "please" is a word used only in the most desperate of times.

He knows that Kyle nags when he's honestly worried about him, that he goes strangely silent when the only thing he wants is a hug, and that "You're a jerk," accompanied by a smile, is essentially the same as Kyle saying, "I love you."

When Kyle wants to have sex he is exceptionally clear and forward about it, and doesn't leave much room for Eric to guess at meanings or motives. But he has learned, more recently, that when Kyle wants to top, (which doesn't happen nearly as often as he would have imagined,) he is not quite so forward. Rather, he takes a roundabout route, and starts off looking for a fight.

He's commented on this behavior in the past, and has suggested that Kyle simply beg to top and save them both the trouble of an argument.

He still has a bruise on his shoulder (along with several smaller, toothier ones at his neck,) from Kyle's pushing, shoving, seam-tearing, swearing response.

...

When Kyle snaps at him about leaving a box of cereal out on the counter, practically inviting all manner of comments regarding his anal-retentive, stingy, Jewish nature, Eric knows exactly what he's trying to do. There are several tip offs; his stance, his tone, the slightly forced increase in volume- but the biggest has to be the period of silence between the time he comes home and the moment he opens his mouth. He's been looking for something to be angry about.

"Seriously, Kyle?" Eric sighs, turning off the television, "This again?" He drops the remote on the couch beside him and stands up, stretching as he does. If things continue down the path he expects them to, it'd be better for him to stretch now and not risk pulling a muscle later.

Behind him, in the kitchen, Kyle huffs. "What again? I'm just asking you to put things away when you're done with them. Or at least /close/ the boxes properly so our food doesn't go stale."

"Telling," Eric corrects, smirking, "Not asking." He finishes reaching up and over his head and shoves the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows before dropping his arms down to rest at his sides.

Kyle drops his head to the side in a show of exasperation and says, "Whatever. Point is, don't leave the fucking cereal out."

Eric makes a point of walking into the kitchen and taking the aforementioned cereal out of Kyle's hand, popping the box open again, "Forget about the cereal. What's really up?" He snorts slightly at himself, thinking that he knows exactly what's going to be up in a matter of minutes, and takes a handful of cereal out of the box, tossing it into his mouth.

Kyle stares at him blankly, or, as blankly as he can while pretending that he has no idea what Eric is talking about. He's not that good of an actor though, and Eric can see the way his gaze shifts, can guess at what excuse he's trying to make up.

"Never mind," Eric interrupts, his mouth still full of cereal (two things Kyle is sure to hate and he /loves/ that he can kill two birds with one stone like this, "I know you wanna fuck me, so why don't you just say so?"

He swallows the cereal in his mouth and puts the box down on the table, still open, and just stands back to grin at the sight of Kyle's face going pink.

"I don't-" Kyle is flustered already, surprised at being found out although Eric has no idea why. He should expect it by now, "That has nothing to do with this!"

A change in subject rather than outright denial. Kyle has always been too honest for his own good. But at least now Eric can be sure that he was right about what Kyle is after.

"Right," Eric says, dragging the word out until it's saturated with sarcasm, "Like we haven't done this song and dance before."

"The only one singing and dancing here is you, musical boy." Kyle gets so uppity when his plans are thwarted, it's funny. Eric doesn't blame him of course, he does the same thing every damn time Kyle figures out what suspicious business he's up to.

"Now, now, Kyle," he sighs, keeping his tone as patronizing as possible, "Play nice. You're using your sideways emotions again." He grins, the nearly sadistic pleasure clear on his face as Kyle's cheeks become more flushed.

Kyle had introduced Eric to the notion of "sideways" emotions years ago, in an effort to help them both understand just why the hell he couldn't behave like a normal human being. Basically it was a big line of psychological bullshit that explained how people, men especially, displayed anger and aggression when what they were truly feeling was too overwhelming. In truth, the concept had given him comfort, made him feel like less of a monster and more like just kind of a dick. A confused, maybe slightly depressed dick. At the time Eric had brushed Kyle's explanation off, using those same sideways emotions, while secretly swearing to make a conscious effort to express his feelings in a way that wouldn't make the person he cared most about hate him.

Now, years later, with a better understanding between them, the explanation of his emotional issues was easy to twist around and use to his advantage. If Eric knew anything about Kyle (and he knew plenty about Kyle,) drudging up something from the past would absolutely put him on the warpath.

Sure enough, Kyle issues his usual warning growl, tensing up around the shoulders, "Fine," he says through grit teeth, "You want me to be straightforward? Get the fuck in the bedroom."

Eric immediately puts his hands up in defense, feigning concern as he says, nearly cooing, "Whoa, whoa, calm down there, Jew. No need to get angry."

Maybe the 'Jew' comment was a little much for Kyle's current level of frustration, because before Eric can back up down the hallway to their bedroom, Kyle grabs him by the front of his shirt and pulls him forward, stepping up to press against him in a mockery of an embrace.

He still looks positively furious as he grounds out, "Shut. Up." And then he waits for Eric's response.

Eric swallows nervously. It's not as though he's actually threatened by the aggressive behavior- he knows Kyle would never really hurt him, and he doesn't want to act the wilting flower and give Kyle reason to laugh at him. Then again, he doesn't want to put on too much bravado and piss Kyle off beyond the point of even wanting to do this anymore.

"Careful Kyle," he says in a deliberately small voice, as though his feelings have been carelessly stomped on by Kyle's assault, "You're gonna give me battered housewife syndrome."

There's the twitch. That slight upturn at one side of Kyle's mouth that is such a good sign, that means Eric's said something that he finds clever, funny, interesting. He still feels a little swell of pride every time it happens and it's so stupid, but he can't help it. Getting a reaction out of Kyle has been his goal for so long, he can't stop striving for it now.

Kyle rewards him with a gentle kiss, a sharp contrast from the viselike grip he still has on the front of Eric's shirt. He releases the fabric a moment later and smoothes his fingers over the wrinkled area, "What I meant to say is- Fine Eric, you were right. I wanna fuck you. So how about we get to that?"

His tone is sarcastic, but the honesty is appreciated.

With a roll of his eyes, Eric turns and makes his way down the hall and into their room, unbuttoning his shirt as he goes. Safely out of Kyle's reach, he calls back, "Begging would have gotten us to this point much faster, you know!"

By the time Kyle walks into the room he's obviously in better spirits, most likely as a result of getting what he wants. He sighs, smirking, and asks, "Didn't I already tell you what I thought of that idea?"

"Hm. I seem to recall something about it being 'fucking stupid,'" Eric takes a seat on the edge of the bed, having given up on undressing for the moment so he can watch with full attention as Kyle sheds his own clothes. He's a little jealous of just how comfortable Kyle is in his own skin, tempers that jealousy with a bit of smugness a a memory rises to the surface of his mind- a confession made some time ago, by the dull glow of tv infomercials at four AM, that Kyle really only felt comfortable being as sexual as he was because he knew Eric liked it, that Eric liked him- remembering it gives Eric the confidence he needs to sit back and grin like he's the fucking god of sex.

With his clothes kicked aside, Kyle stands before Eric expectantly, hands on his hips. He quirks an eyebrow and Eric, for once, does what he's supposed to without complaint, scooting back on the bed and propping himself up on his elbows. He sits up a little to unzip the fly of his pants, but Kyle climbing onto the bed distracts him, and before he can comment on what a lovely sight it is, Kyle is straddling his legs and slipping a hand into his boxers.

Kyle doesn't mind working around clothes, something Eric has greatly appreciated during about a thousand bouts of insecurity over the years, and though his pants and boxers do eventually get pushed and nudged and kicked off, his shirt remains, hanging off one shoulder from where Kyle decided it needed to be moved to facilitate the nipping of skin.

The preparatory shit is just as awkward as ever, with neither of them quite sure where to look, how to behave. They're both the sort of people that thrive on thrusting, licking, biting. Being slow and careful for just a moment or two feels strange. Once they get into the motion of things though, it all falls back into place. They move together, breath each other's breath. When Kyle's fingernails bite into Eric's hips a little too harshly, he gasps out a complaint, "Ey!"

Kyle is suddenly still, caught between confused and annoyed, "What?"

Eric huffs, muttering, "Be gentle, jackass...that fuckin' hurt."

Kyle looks sheepish, but rolls his eyes, "Like you're ever gentle with me."

He's out of breath, which Eric finds oddly amusing, and he lets that good humor lead him into a soft, teasing laugh, "But you like it when I'm rough."

Even in the dim light of their room, Eric can see Kyle blushing. He laughs openly then, the sound taking a turn toward a moan when Kyle rolls his hips purely out of spite.

Eric knows Kyle well enough, can judge his expressions well enough, to know when he's going to come. He can see it in his movements, hear it in the hitch of his breath, and when Kyle needs to stifle a cry, as Eric expected he would have to, he offers his neck for Kyle to nuzzle into, to muffle the sound of his own voice.

Kyle is fucking gorgeous as usual, and just watching him is enough to make Eric's own nerves to react, causing his hips jerk and his vision blur for just a second. It helps that Kyle strokes his dick lazily, even as he's trying to catch his breath, never stopping until he's accomplished what he set out to do.

They've got something good going here, Eric thinks as Kyle rolls over to lay against his side. They have a love for each other that no one else seems to get, but it's something that works for them. They share an understanding- Kyle because he's just a crazy smart, intuitive person, and Eric because he has studied Kyle like a freakin' stalker for years. They just know how to read each other.

And as Kyle rests his head against Eric's chest, looking ready to drift off, Eric reaches up to brush his fingers through Kyle's hair. The words play in his head a half-step before Kyle says them, "Don't do that..." But his hand stays where it is, because as much as Kyle complains, he never really minds Eric petting his hair.

"Jerk." He murmurs.

Eric just smiles.


End file.
